


Man Eater

by SupahYellowSentai



Series: Fem!Sam Stories [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Dean, Case Fic, Female Sam Winchester, Gen, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-01-30 00:55:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12642855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupahYellowSentai/pseuds/SupahYellowSentai
Summary: Dean and Sam take a case at the request of a friend. Women have been disappearing, and three days after they are taken their boyfriends/husbands are found dead. FEM!Sam. Casefic. No wincest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second story posted on Fan Fiction. I originally started writing under the assumption that it would be interesting to see the sibling relationship if it was Dean and his little sister. Everything is written out. I'll just post something new each week.

Sam felt a chill suddenly enter the rotting room, and saw the breath leave her in a fog. He was here. She raised up her gun and cocked it back, but she continued her search for anything that this spirit could be tied to. She stopped at the dresser, torn between wanting to search for anything, and wanting to find the bloated man before his knife found her. She didn't have to hesitate long. A growl came from behind her.

Sam spun gun ready, but so was tubby. He knocked the weapon away as she pulled the trigger, the salt round just barely missing him. Sam danced away further from the weapon to avoid the wicked kitchen blade stained a deep red that had been swiped at her midsection. He gave an angry growl again and raised his arm to try again.

"HEY!" The spirit turned to look behind him, and Sam crouch knowing well what was about to happen next. Dean stood in the doorway of the room and fired off a round that made the spirit dissolve for the time being, the casing punching a hole in one of drawers she was about to check.

Dean brought the weapon down and rushed to his sister. "Hey you ok?"

Sam shook off his concern while she bent down to pick up the lost rifle. "Fine, almost sushi, but you sure came in the nick of time." She paused; not feeling or hearing the tell tale signs of a ghost in the room she continued with Dean. "So you find anything, because I seem to be at a loss."

"Damn right I found something." Dean smirked. "Attic. I'll tell you on the way."

Dean took off out of the room and up the rickety stairs practically two at a time. Sam followed quickly on his heels. "Found a journal, apparently our friend would overdose upstairs then weave strands of his victim's hair into a chain already made of his own hair."

"So aside from the obvious disgust at jewelry taste; he wrote in a journal? He doesn't seem the sensitive type." She took the steps two at a time, not even winded by the time they had made it to the hallway upstairs.

Dean reached up and pulled down the stair to the attic. "It wasn't your typically girly crushes Sam. Trust me when I say that he had some messed up theories."

He started up the stairs. Sam following up as well, until a swollen hand clamped onto her ankle knocking her body, then head to the steps. She scrabbled for a hold but he dragged her down and swept up his hand, making the attic door retract the steps and spring the door back up.

Sam now with her back supported on the carpet, kicked out with her other leg and caught the man in his midsection. It might not have winded the spirit, like it would have any other, living breathing creature, but it did the job and her ankle was released.

She could hear above her, her brother pounding and yelling her name through the attic door. "I'm fine! Burn it!" She yelled scrambling for her gun and running toward the stairs.

In the attic Dean heard the retreating steps and angrily slammed his hand down on the floor. "Damn it." He shot up and started looking around the cluttered room.

Sam scrambled down the stairs taking the spirits attention away from Dean while he was busy elsewhere trying to find and burn the chain. She heard the man grunting as he followed. Great she seemed to have his undivided attention. She muttered under her breath, "Come on Dean."

Halfway down the steps the man appeared in front of her blade swinging dangerously at her neck. Sam ducked down under the blade, but the action caused her to trip going down the rest of the stairs in a painful tumble.

Before she could scramble back up again the spirit was next to her his foot kicking out sliding her across the hallway and away from her weapon.

Upstairs Dean cursed and tore through the man's belongings. Boxes that were now moldy and deteriorating slowly were over turned while Dean shifted through trying to find a chain of hair. He blocked out the distant sound of fighting. Finally in one of the boxes he found an elaborate tin chest. When opened he found it, a disgusting circle of hair with an amulet hanging off.

Not taking time to admire it, he set the box down and pulled out his lighter. After a few more curses and striking his thumb on the button in attempt to light it up, the flame sprang up and he threw it in the tin.

Sam cried out as his hand splayed and she flew back again, this time into the wall. She tried lifting her head up but he lifted his hand back up and her head slammed back into the wall with a painful thud. He lifted up the blade took two steps toward the woman and stopped. He put his hands to his head where his hair sat on flames. He gave a despite scream as the fire traveled down his body dissipating the spirit for good.

With tubby gone Sam felt his hold on her disappear and she hit the ground hard landing on her hands and knees. She took a few deep, wheezing breaths while listening to Dean kick down the attic door.

"Sammy! You ok?!"

She looked up gratefully as he thundered down the steps. Using the wall she pushed herself up and met him at the bottom.

"I'm super." She wheezed the sound not making Dean feel any better.

He took her head in his hands and inspected the lump swelling up just above her brow line. "You are going to have one hell of a headache in the morning Sammy."

"Once again-" She slapped away Dean's hand and frowned. "It's Sam, not Sammy."

She moved to bend down and pick up her weapon off the ground, but Dean stopped her. "I'll get it." He stooped down and grabbed the gun, pressing it back in her hands. "There you go… Samantha."

****

<<<>>>

****

****  


Sam jolted awake when something hit her leg, avoiding perfectly the nice purple bruise swelling on her thy. She groaned when she saw Dean standing above her his a-typical big brother grin on his face.

"Up and at 'em Sammy." He chirped. "I have food, and then you should probably take a warm bath, because in the morning your muscles are going to be sore as hell."

"They already are." She groaned sitting up. Everything seemed to hurt. When she had hit the stairs head on not only had it left a good lump, that had it not been for the Tylenol would be pumping more pain through her skull, it had also bruised her stomach and upper thy. Simply sitting up and draping her legs over the bed was torture. "And what do you mean in the morning? It's not morning?"

Dean smirked and shifted through a bag sitting on the small table in the corner. A delicious smell drifted out of it. "Yeah it's about eleven. You dozed off for about thirty minutes." He took out two Styrofoam containers. "We wrapped up that hunt pretty quickly huh Sammy."

"Why did you wake me up if it's just eleven?" Sam groaned and rubbed at her eyes.

"You don't listen well at all." Dean stabbed a fork and knife into something inside the Styrofoam and walked across the room to hand it down to his sister. "Because your awesome big brother figured that you hadn't eaten in 24 hours, and got you chicken fried steak. And you're taking a bath and soaking to relax those muscles."

"Dude I'm twenty two, not five, you cannot tell me when to bathe." As irritated as she was the food did smell good, and a hot bath didn't seem like such a bad idea.

Dean rolled his eyes when he turned his back on his sister and sat down to eat his own meal. "And I've been taking care of you for twenty two years and know that if you don't soak in a warm bath, you're going to be a bitch in the morning. Or at least more so than usual."

"Oh shut up you Jerk." Sam pulled the plastic cutlery out of the steaming piece of meat. After a few bites of the steak and the mashed potatoes she did admit to herself that she did feel a little better. Not that she would admit that out loud, her brother's head was already swollen to begin with.

Dean monitored Sam from the corner of his eye. She sat stiffly on the bed shoveling the meal pretty dang eagerly into her mouth. Finally, even though all the food hadn't been eaten, she placed down the container and looked content. Dean pushed out of his chair and clapped, the sound startling his sister, and amusing him.

"So bathroom, now."

"I'm going. I'm going." Sam groaned forcing herself to her feet.

"Need help getting there?" Dean asked, a brow raising.

"No!" She cried indignantly. Walking quickly, although stiffly too, she reached her doufle and dragged out a pair of pajama bottoms and one of Dean's old undershirts. "I don't need your help."

Dean chuckled as the door to the bathroom slammed. When they found dad he would be happy to know that his strong, independent daughter was still intact. College and a romantic relationship lost hadn't done a thing to change her. He sat back down to the meal, and wolfed down the remaining food. Tossing his own container in the trash, he stood up and collected his sisters, closing up the Styrofoam and putting it back in the bag with his pie for later.

His blackberry buzzed in his back pocket and he paused to look at it long enough to see who it was that was calling. "Hey Bobby."

"Hey boy, got your message that you took care of the Slayer." Bobby said from the other line. "He sounded like a nasty piece of work."

"Well he certainly wasn't a walk in the park, Bobby. Man killed 48 people when he was alive; Sammy was nearly his tenth as a dead man." Dean said gruffly his head turning at the sound of the water turning off inside the bathroom.

"I'm sure it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. You and your father raised her well. How is she doing anyway?" Bobby asked care in his tone.

Dean smirked. "Obnoxious. I think she's finally coming around. I mean her boyfriend's death messed her up for a little while. She got a little too, driven. Kinda like I remember Dad being when I was young. But she's finally acting like her normal self." Dean frowned though. "I don't imagine you called to check up on us."

"I didn't you idjit. I have a favor to ask."

Twenty minutes later Sam stepped out of the bathroom towel drying her long hair. "Hey Dean. I was thinking we could-"

She paused when she saw the deep look of though on her older brother's face as he scanned her laptop. She could just read over his shoulder the article title.

"Job?" She asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Dean didn't look up from the computer. "Yeah, Bobby called. A friend of his had his daughter go missing a day ago. She went with her boyfriend to a bar, and after he dropped her off at the house. She didn't even make it to the door. A hooded figure swept in and took the woman away, before the man could even get out of the car."

"I'm guessing the kid didn't see the face?" She asked leaning down to read the article. She ignored the glare she got from her brother when her hair started dripping onto his shoulder.

"Boyfriend says that the figure was just bulky in figure and hooded; moved at an impossible speed." Dean said pushing her back. "You are dripping on me woman. Why don't you go dry your hair off and go to sleep, we'll leave in the morning."

Sam threw her towel at him; it made a bull's eye landing right over his head. "Why don't you act a little nicer, and explain what we'll be walking into."

"Damn it Sam." Dean tore the towel off and threw it to the ground. "You're tired. A few hours ago you were being banged around by the Slayer, just get some rest and we'll talk in the morning about the new case."

"No Dean!" Sam walked forward and pointed her finger into his chest. "You listen to me. I am tired of you babying me. Do I enjoy this line of work? No. But I was born in it and I know what it takes to survive. Quit treating me like I'm still some snot nosed little girl. I'm not."

"Babying you?"

"Yes! You don't think I see it, since I've come back; you have been on full big brother mode. And as much as I love you and appreciate you wanting to protect me, just stop it. I can be just as much help on a hunt as you or dad can be."

Dean sighed and folded the computer down. "I'm just trying make sure your safe Sam, only hours ago, a ghost was trying to slice and dice you."

"Wait. Wait. So you're saying that if I hadn't distracted him, and he went to find you locked in the attic, you could have handled him single handed." Sam growled, spinning around. "You're saying that Dean Winchester, THE Dean Winchester, with his cape and supervision; could have both found the disgusting necklace of hair and fought him off at the same time."

Dean sighed, and reached out to give her a comforting touch. Sam dodged him though and in her fury and haste to get away nearly knocked over one of the wooden chairs.

She gave a sarcastic laugh. "Well I'm sorry Superman. I won't get in the way again."

"That's not what I meant."

"Oh what did you mean? Wait I got it, it's because I'm female right, and all females should be protected by their knight in shining armor."

"No," Dean rushed forward and shoved his sister into an embrace. She squirmed to get out. "Look, I'm sorry. That's not what I meant. You are strong and capable. I really appreciate you having my back."

She finally stopped fighting him.

"Look I just barely got you back. For years you were gone, in college. No calls, no updates. Even dad was really freaked."

"I just want to be treated as an equal Dean. I don't want to be your, or dad's soldier. I don't want to be a pesky little sister."

"You are my pesky little sister, Sammy." Dean finally smirked allowing Sam out of his embrace. "But yes, you are my partner. You are not just a soldier."

"Then I want to know what we're doing. Where are we going? What does Bobby need?" She said giving her obnoxious, protective, big brother a stern look.

****

<<<>>>

****

****  


The impala's rumbling stopped and Dean straightened up his tie. Ok Samuels." Dean smirked. "Ready to go."

Sam rolled her eyes at her brother. How he managed to find the most obnoxious names for them when they went undercover was beyond her. "Yeah yeah." She opened her door and gave a low grunt as she pushed her tall, lanky form out of the low car.

Finally after the fight they had discussed the case. So far three women had gone missing. Megan Winter's had gone missing in Dallas. Three days later her abusive boyfriend Maxwell Power's disappears, only to be found a day later with his head bashed in, and with his manhood gone. Two weeks later in Lewisville Texas, Maya Colt another frequent flyer at the hospital thanks to her husband goes to a bar after one of their fights and isn't seen again. Three days later William Colt is found head smashed in. Rachel Dashner, is the next victim only after a week, in Sherman Texas. Same MO, goes to a bar with boyfriend and goes missing; only thing this time is boyfriend witnessed her being taken off with by a hooded figure, that moved impossibly fast. Too fast for him to even step out of his vehicle.

It had been three days and if patterns continued Ash Harkness, Dashner's boyfriend, would be the next with his skull flattened.

Sam took the lead and started up the walk while Dean shut the door and looked up at the house. Man seemed to have accumulated quite a bit of money in his short 25 years. If the pattern continued he was also a sick on of a bitch that beat on his girlfriend.

He joined Sam up at the door just as it was opening. A disheveled Harnkess opened the door. It appeared that in the days following his girlfriends disappearance he wasn't getting a lot of sleep.

"Are you Ashton Harkness?" Sam asked.

The man looked at them both through the crack in the door. "Yes, who is asking?"

"I'm Agent Samuels, this is Agent Bloom. We have some questions for you." Sam pulled out her badge from her coat pocket, and waited until Dean had fished his out before she flashed the badge.

The man opened the door wide and frowned at the two agents standing at the entrance. "I already spoke with the sheriff's office, and they all but called me crazy."

Dean folded the badge and stuck it in his back pocket. "We have a few more leads that we would like to follow, so some fresh insight might be nice."

"Could we come in?" Sam asked.

Harkness looked at them both until he finally moved out of the way and splayed his hand in a semi-inviting way. "Sure."

Sam entered first and Dean followed, they stood in the entrance hall until Harkness closed the door and ushered them into the sitting room. He showed them to the couch and sat on a deep plush chair. "Now what do you want to know."

"We want you to reaccount the evening. Every little detail counts." Dean said put off al little by the whiteness of the room.

"You may even remember something that you didn't tell the local department." Sam said softly.

"Not much to say. Picked her up at nine, and we went over to the Nightly Rodeo." At their confused glances he added. "It's a local spot; country music, beer, and pool. Anyway we stayed until about midnight, and I drove her home so that she could get some rest before morning. She had some early hours.

"As she was walking up to her apartment, I saw this hooded man."

"How do you know it was a man?" Sam asked.

Harkness shrugged. "I didn't get a good look because he stayed mostly in the shadows, but I did notice that he had broad shoulders, and looked very built. He moved fast though, impossibly fast. One second she was there, and the next she was over his shoulders and gone." The man scrubbed his face. "I didn't even have a chance to get out of my car."

"Why didn't you walk her up to her apartment?" Dean asked, leaning back into the pillows.

"How do you mean?"

"Mr. Harnkess, most men after dates, will walk their partner home to ensure their safety." Sam expanded the concept.

"Well the evening didn't end well." Ashton Harkness awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. "I didn't tell the sheriff's department because I would be implicated, but we did have a fight. I have been trying to convince her to cut ties with her brother. He gets arrested weekly for drunkenly behavior, and she is stopping her life to help him. Just last week her boss fired her because she hadn't shown up to work for the hundredth time. I just told her to put him in a rehab facility, and after a few choice words between the pair of us I slammed my drink down a little too hard, and didn't notice her hand there."

Sam looked over at her brother a confused look on her face. "I hate to ask, Mr. Harkness, but had there been any other event where she received injury."

"If you are asking me if I beat her then the answer is no. You can ask everyone we know, and even check records at the hospital. I have never laid a hand on Rachel. That night was the first time that I had unintentionally hurt her." Harkness said with a voice quivering in anger.

"According to the files the bar tender seemed to notice a few bruises; wrists, and her cheek." Dean included.

"Like I said, you can check with her brother, she bailed him out again and he gave her a whollop. That's why I was trying to convince her to get him some help."

Both siblings turned to give each other side glances. Innocent or not, they would have to watch the house tonight to make sure that Ashton made it through to the morning alive.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean yawned and looked though his window at the dark house. He turned his head and looked down at his baby sister. She was laying knees curled up and braced against the passenger door while her head dipped down. Poor girl after about seventeen had shot up in a massive growth spurt, and hadn't stopped. Dean had been surprised when she had surpassed him in height (it was only an inch or two, but older was supposed to be taller right?).

Dean tapped at the clock on the radio willing it to be morning. It was only eleven fifteen and he was exhausted. Sometimes he wished he could start a union for hunters to fix the hours. Turn it into a regular nine to nine job, let the monsters and ghosts give them holidays and vacation hours. His exhausted mind started playing dialog in his head between hunter and monster to keep awake. _"Tomorrow is Labor Day so we are going to have to postpone this fight werewolf." "No I can't do Thursday poltergeist, can we move the schedule up to Saturday?"_ Not only would it benefit the hunters, but the monsters could take time to barbeque and relax too.

Sam stirred next to him and broke him off from his addled thoughts. She untangled herself and sat up stretching the best she could in the cramped car. "Any movement?"

"No, haven't seen a thing." Dean sighed scrubbing his face. "Not that this does us any good. Super Strong and Super Speed could already be here and gone."

"Why don't you try getting some sleep? I can keep watch." Sam offered.

Dean was about to decline the offer. She was the younger sister, she should get more sleep. The second the thought crossed into his head was the argument. Equals. She was a partner, not something he needed to dote on, well at least all of the time. "Yeah, I could probably do with a little shut eye. Wake me the second you see anything."

He pulled down the back of the seat and draped an arm over his eyes. He wasn't sure when he dozed off, but Sam pulled him out of an awesome dream involving Sandra; a blond cheerleader from one of the many high schools the siblings had populated.

"Dean! He's here!"

Dean snapped up and found the seat next to him being abandoned, and the door slamming. Before Dean could tell her to stop she was running across the street at the bulky shape standing at the entrance of Ashton's home the door smashed down in bits around him. The figure seemed to be distressed banging on his head, and grunting in pain.

It didn't even appear to notice Sam until she brought up her weapon and smashed the butt of her gun into the face of the man. He didn't even flinch. He threw a punch at Sam's jaw and she went down, sliding along the grass.

"Sam!" Dean rushed out of the car and ran across the street. He brought his gun up as he ran and not caring about the noise it would make, fired a shot into the man's approximate forehead. Even though he couldn't see with the hood up, he was sure it had been a definite hit, but the man still remained up standing. It had done enough though. Now attention was focused on him, and not his prone baby sister.

"Hey ugly, you have the hood up to hide your face?" Dean ground out not putting down his weapon. He ignored the lights of the houses around him turning on, and front doors cautiously opening. "What did you do to Ashton? Huh? What did you do you son of a bitch?"

The hooded man turned his head to look at both the neighbors and the hunter. A little crowd was beginning to form across the street; some men were getting braver and starting to cross.

"You think you can just come in and swipe women away, and pound in their man's heads." Dean growled, gauging the man's actions. He seemed to hesitate, moaning and hitting his head. Dean thought for a second he was going to stand down when his demeanor changed entirely.

The man roared, and rushed toward Dean, but Sam popped up behind him, her jaw already coloring. She wrapped her arms around his neck trying to use her weight to drag down the ample built man, meanwhile sliding a silver blade down his arm. He threw her off again, but not until the hood fell off and revealed his face. Dean stopped and his gun slowly lowered in shock.

"No way." Dean said in shock. He caught his sister's glance, and at once Sam knew something was wrong.

Whoever it was, knew he was caught in the middle of the neighborhoods attention, and with an incredible speed sped off down the sidewalk away from the house.

Dean helped Sammy up, "well things just got complicated."

Police had shown up and inspected the scene fifteen minutes later. As the siblings feared Ashton Harkness was dead, head smashed in, just like the other victims significant others. Sam and Dean had been questioned thoroughly on sight and nearly dragged to the station, but with the stories of the neighbors they were cleared. The department wasn't so sure that Ashton had been crazy. About a dozen other people that night had seen the same hooded man, with a large build.

After given a warning and a promise for a follow up, Sam and Dean were free to go on their own way. A few of the neighbors even had applauded them, thanked them even for trying to protect their neighbor.

It wasn't until Dean had Sam in the motel room, a bag of ice sitting on her jaw that Dean finally spoke to her about the situation.

"What the hell were you thinking Sam? Smacking the thing with your gun, that's child's play." Dean sighed pulling a beer from the cooler. He frowned when he saw it was the last one and made a mental note to make a run.

"I thought that I could bring it down at least. See what we were dealing with. I'm not just going to shoot first." Sam put the ice pack down and poked at the bruise. "Besides, you have more to explain. What was it? I know you got a look at the thing."

Dean grabbed her hand and pushed the ice pack back in its place. "Stop that! And it really wasn't a what. Remember Megan Winters?"

"Yeah, she was the first victim." Sam frowned, the motion hurting.

"Well the thing was Maxwell Powers, her abusive boyfriend. And from the state of him, I would guess he's dead." Dean tipped his head back downing half of the beer.

Sam wasn't sure what to say. She finally ran through what her brother had just said through her head and processed the words. "Of course he's dead. They found his body and identified it. His head was smashed in, and remember his genitals, those had been ripped off."

"Well, it was Maxwell Powers, but his face was back though a little caved in, and his ear was kind of hanging off. I think he might be-"

"A zombie Dean? Is that what you're about to say. Why would Powers kidnap his girlfriend, then, here's the kicker then kill himself." Sam scoffed lightly rubbing softly at her jaw. "How could he even revive himself?"

"It could be a shapeshifter." Dean sat down and scrubbed at his five o clock shadow. Sam just picked up a silver blade from the bed and waved it the blood still fresh. "I don't know Sammy. We deal with the impossible. Certainly though there is voodoo and witchcraft spells, known to raise the dead."

"Witchcraft?" Sam asked more to herself than Dean. He saw the wheels turning in her Ivy League noggin and knew she was spinning around concepts.

He took another sip and waited patiently.

"When I was on his back, he did smell strongly of coriander." Sam said standing up and dropping the ice bag. "What if this is witchcraft. Megan Winters for some reason starts talking about the abuse she receives at home and the witch hears. So for her own safety she takes the woman out of the situation and kills Powers."

"Why then, destroy Power's manhood, and not the other men?" Dean asked.

"Since Megan appears to be the first, and he was the worst abuser; the witch probably took out a little more fury on him. Used necromancy so she could resurrect Powers and use him to save other women and not have to do the dirty work herself," Sam frowned. "All of this is still highly theoretical."

Dean shrugged. "Better than where we were a day ago. Let me give Bobby a call and run the theory by him."

Based off of Bobby's reaction it seemed promising. There was no sarcasm, no idjits, nothing to suggest that they had gone off the deep end with their concept. Bobby just started to hum mid way through their explanation and shift through a few books. When they finished he was still flipping pages. "Well that is certainly possible. In fact Caleb was in Dallas barely two months ago, taking care of a coven."

"Timeline certainly fits, Winters disappeared just month ago. This witch could be helping the women, and reassembling her coven." Sam leaned her elbow on the circular table to lean closer to the phone on speaker.

"Why abused women?" Dean asked more for himself. "Why not just go for the typical house wife, they seem easy enough to fool."

Sam ignored the sexist comment. "Girl power? Maybe she was abused herself and she doesn't only want to help she wants to start the coven with survivors of abuse."

"That could take a while though." Bobby said through the line. "Abuse does something to your head; it conditions you to think the worst about yourself, and leaves you with a lack of confidence. The ideal coven should be full of strong women, and abused women don't turn into that overnight."

Dean exchanged a glance with Sam. Before Dean could ask, Sam cleared her throat, with a direct look at her brother. "Besides Rachel Dashner, was not abused by her boyfriend. In fact according to everyone around them they were a pretty solid couple." She thought hard for a second. "Dashner would have to be stowed and brain washed somewhere with the other women, only where does a traveling witch keep three people."

Still sour from the interruption Dean leaned back in the uncomfortable chair. "I don't know. How do you travel from Dallas to Sherman Texas without hearing screams, allowing for bathroom breaks, feeding them, and giving them water?"

"She could be toting them around in a van, or a trailer. She could be looking to take root in a small town somewhere no one knows your face. Then start the conditioning." Bobby added.

"Well and look at her rate of travel. She's headed north to Oklahoma. Two weeks in Lewisville, then she kidnaps a woman and leaves, one week in Sherman, then she takes someone else. She could be doing just what we do when we get stuck with a lack of funds in the middle of nowhere." Sam though out loud.

"We stay for a little while, get a short term job, hustle up some cash for gas and food for the road, and then hightail it out of there."

Sam smirked. "So she's broke trying to find a home."

"Listen to me. You two take care, I'll look more into necromancy and see if there is a way to stop Power's again. Meanwhile watch out, he can't be taken out the traditional way, and anything that you do to injure him can and will be sewn up and fixed." Bobby warned the two.

"Great, so lob off an arm and the bitch just finds another one." Dean complained.

"I'm serious, be careful." The call ended, and Dean scooped up his phone to disconnect from his end.

**< <<>>>**

Sam sat at the bar ignoring any stares aimed her way. She was certain, although she had gussied up a bit for the trip, she like a train wreck. She was sporting a small lump on her forehead, her jaw was bruised, and her arm if the sleeves shifted up far enough showed the Slayers handiwork. Typically she would use Dean, or her left hook to push guys away from her, but no one wanted to hit on her that night.

The phone rang and Sam picked it up, before she even read the id. "So you check the graves?" She asked her fingernail raking at the bottle of beer in front of her.

"Yeah I checked them. 64 miles, and three hours of my life wasted driving and digging up graves but yes. In Lewisville William Colt is still there, face in pieces. Meanwhile Maxwell Powers, as I already freaking told you has been dug up already. The dirt around his grave has been dug up in the last month or so."

Sam sighed and rubbed her head, the headaches were coming back. She slipped her hand in her pocket and slipped out two Tylenol. She downed the tablets with her beer. "Yeah well, I check with the bartenders in both Lewisville, and Shelton. In both instances there was a female bartender who worked there for a short time, then upped and left. In both cases several of her coworkers remember her helping both Maya, and Rachel and her boyfriend."

She gave another sigh willing the pain pills to take effect. "Where are you now anyways?"

"I'm about Halfway there, just passed McKinney. Hey you don't sound too good, how's your head?" Dean bit through the line worry in his tone.

"I'm fine Dean."

"Fine my ass, in the short span of a week you have had two individual head wounds. Have you taken any pain meds?"

She chuckled into the line. "Partner, Dean."

"Yeah well, Partner mode is off, this is big brother mode. Have you taken at least a Tylenol, or gotten any shut eye?"

"Just took two, and leaving the bar shortly. I was trying to see if our bartender would show up, but so far squat." She tipped her head back and finished the contents of the bottle before continuing. "I think she left town, and we won't catch up to her until she grabs another girl."

"Well isn't that just friggen perfect." Dean ground.

Sam watched as couples two stepped on the dance floor to a Keith Urban song. "Yeah well, Power's certainly surprised us didn't he? We were not expecting him to use the back door and stumble out the front."

"Well, that wasn't quite the plan. He sort of improvised." A woman leaned down and took up the phone Sam had against her ear. Sam looked up at the short, dark haired bartender that waved the phone tauntingly in the air. She pressed the phone to her ear and in a sickly sweet tone informed Dean that Sam was busy. She hung up the line and put the phone on the table before joining the hunter at her table. "This seat isn't taken, is it sugar?"

"By all means." Sam's demeanor remained calm but inside her heart started to pound out one of Dean's Metallica songs. "To what do I owe this honor?"

The witch cocked her ear up as if listening to some far off music, and gave a laugh. Sam realized with a start that she was listening to her heart beat. "Calm down Winchester. This is a public place. If I had come to kill you-" She leaned forward and smiled a little too widely. "-I would have done it already."

"How do you know who I am?" Sam bit out a little more hoarsely than she intended. The phone on the table started to ring again and Sam reached down to pick it up, but the Witch splayed her hand and the phone by some unseen force was dragged out of her reach and onto the floor.

"Oh please Samantha. Your daddy was quite the hunter; every being out there knows the Winchester family. In fact, I have kept up tabs with you for a while. I was proud of you; heard through the grapevine that you had escaped this world, gone Apple Pie." She waved a hand up and ordered a martini from a passing waitress.

"Names Sam and why would my escape entertain your fancy?" Sam asked giving a little breathy laugh.

At the correction the witch looked appalled. "Sam is a boy's name. Samantha holds far more power and grace than Sam; but I guess being raised by men in a man's world does confuse a woman."

"Mans world?" Sam asked with a scoff. "Hunting isn't just for the men. I knew a few women pretty on par with Dad growing up."

The witch laughed again this time with a little more shock. "Please, women carry power, and men carry guns to imitate the feel of power. What I was proud of my girl, is that you chose the route of wisdom. Stanford is a top notch school, and in its early days women rarely graced its ancient halls."

Sam waited patiently while the waitress returned with a martini. It wasn't until the waitress was gone that Sam finally spoke up. "Look, don't get me wrong. The first two asshats, kind of had it coming. I mean I knew a girl who was beaten and raped by her father a long time ago, and trust me that ruffled my feathers too. But this feminism crap, is no excuse for kidnap and murder. You need to let those poor girls go."

"Let them go?" The woman brought up her drink and took a sip cooing at her content. "Why would I do that? Those girls were distressed, they were powerless. Megan, lived in fear of her bastard boyfriend, and Maya well you should have heard some of the stories that she told that night at the bar. What I am doing is making them stronger. I am taking away their fear, and I am going to build them back up again. Make them strong."

"You were wrong about Rachel though. Her boyfriend wasn't abusing her; all you witnessed was trouble with her brother, and an unfortunate fight at the bar that night." Sam growled. "You killed an innocent man."

"Men innocent? Even if I hadn't done all the fact checking I am fairly certain, that man had sins up to his head. Rachel is better off being away from both her brother, and her boyfriend." She swirled the drink around and watched as the light seemed to color the liquid in the clear glass. "However riveting this conversation is Samantha that is not why I am here."

"I assume it's to find a new member and some unlucky man."

"Well your half right." The woman put down the drink on the table. "I have come for a new recruit, and that would be you."

Sam snorted, and nearly choked on her beer. "Oh yeah. And why on earth would I ever agree to join a witch's coven. You said it yourself I'm a born and raised hunter. What good are they in your world?"

"Hunter thing is just a technicality. You Samantha, you are a special one. Of all of your family you have been the strongest. The most underestimated I'll admit, but the strongest none the less. And I know that between your hard ass father, and your brain dead brother, you-" The woman pointed to Sam. Her nail was perfectly shaped and painted. "You Samantha are the smartest of the three."

She took a final sip of the martini and picked up the olive and put it in her mouth, swallowing even the pit. "I'm sure you picked up Latin faster than your dad could have imagined. Probably are read up on a few spells, just for hunting sakes. I'm sure that you were at the library the most too, reading up on ancient civilizations, unique cultures in the 17th century, anything to help the two meat heads."

"Now I won't deny that I am quite the brain." Sam smirked. "But what makes you think that I would ever want to join your coven?"

"Intuition." The witch smiled and flicked up a business card mysteriously out from nowhere. "Both you and I know that you are more capable of doing more than what you are doing now, and your getting tired of playing second fiddle to your older brother. I mean soldier boy certainly can kill your wonderful creativity."

Sam opened her mouth to say something but the witch silenced her. "I don't want your answer now. I'm sure that you would say something that you would surely regret. Take the card; it has my number only on it. You get one chance to answer, and afterwards, if you choose wrong it is not my fault for the consequences."

She lifted her hand and Sam's cell phone came floating up. A nearby drunk gawked as it landed neatly in the witches' palm. She laid the card on top of the hunter's phone and slid it back over with a delicate finger. "Give me a call, whenever you are ready."

The phone was buzzing and ringing franticly again, but Sam didn't go for it. She watched as the witch stood up and walked out of the bar the eyes of all the men riveted on the sight as well.


	3. Chapter 3

"Are you sure you're okay? Dean demanded his hands doing a brisk, non-invasive triage. Finally after the tenth consecutive call in their short span of a conversation, Sam had picked up the violently buzzing phone and assured her brother she was ok. However, somehow Dean had turned the thirty minutes he had left and made them fifteen. Sam had just barely gotten back to the motel room herself before the impala squealed into the parking lot. Now he was here doing one of the things that may have made him Dean, but also obnoxious.

"She didn't hurt you, or plant any hex bags." Dean asked.

"Look around at the room Dean."

He finally stopped fretting over his sister and noticed items were flung off of tables and out of bags. The beds were shifted to the sides as if someone had lifted them to look under, and the comforters and sheets were in a tangled mess from her search.

"I even checked the bathroom, and the piping." She yanked a wrench out of her pocket. "Which is really gross by the way. So I am fine, there are no hex bags, and you need to stop overreacting?"

"Overreacting?" Dean scoffed adrenalin finally leaving, and causing immediate drowsiness. "I get a call interrupted by a witch, who by the way is killing people, and I'm overreacting?"

Sam smirked and played around with a business card he couldn't quite read. "Since I am a female, and she seems to be going after douche bag men, I am the safer of the two. Anyways all she wanted to do was talk."

"What did she talk about?"

Sam rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. "Oh the usual, she was explaining herself. Spewing Rosie the Riveter crap about how women are just as strong as men. Which don't let the phrasing imply that I don't believe it, just not extreme witch bitch version. Oh and she-" Sam coughed, spilling out quick "-kindaofferedmeajob…"

"Wait what?" Dean shot up from the bed he had just sat down on. "She offered you a job? She offered you a position in the coven?"

Sam only nodded.

"You did say no right?" Dean demanded. He looked at Sam's face and she blew out a sigh her eyes darting around the room. "You said yes?"

"No! I really didn't have a chance to say anything Dean. She gave me her number and told me to call her once with my answer. She told me to think about it." Sam frowned, "Which of course the answer is no."

"Why does she want you anyways?" Dean asked rubbing a hand through his head.

Sam looked up hurt. "Apparently, Stanford Brains is enough to convince her that I'm useful. When I insisted that I was a hunter she seemed to imply that my training in Latin and basic spells and chants for hunts were kind of favored. Besides it's not like I have leprosy, and am rendered useless."

"Oh shut it Susan B. Anthony, I wasn't implying that you were useless. I'm just curious why a witch wants a hunter in her coven." Dean pulled out his cell and dialed Bobby's number. "I don't want to have Power's sent to retrieve you if you decline the offer."

Dean waited while the phone rang.

"Besides, you would suck as a witch." He gave his little sister a smirk before giving, what she guessed was, a tired Bobby an apologetic greeting. "Hey Bobby, I know it's late-" Dean paused. "Yes I know it's freaking 1 in the morning."

Sam motioned Dean to put his cell back on speaker. "Hey Bobby, we kind of confirmed the theory, it is a witch."

"And how the hell did you two sleep depriving idjits do that?" Bobby ground out on the other line, just a little miffed that his sleep had been disturbed.

"Well, she met me at the bar, and sort of offered me a position in the coven." Bobby's line remained silent. "Now I fully intend to call her back and say no, however the other three women probably declined their offers too."

"Why does she think that you are in danger?" Bobby asked; sleep seeming to disappear from his tone.

"She mentioned something about hunting being a man's world, and how I was forced into it. She also knew about my short lived life at Stanford and how I was dragged back in. She seems to think that I'm brain washed by Dad and Dean." Sam rubbed her head.

Bobby sighed. "She's going to save you from the world and give you a new purpose."

"Yeah, and I'm not sure that she'll accept Sam's no." Dean frowned. "Have you dug anything up on necromancy, and how to bring down Speedy Gonzalez?"

Bobby groaned on the other line, probably getting out of bed and padding along to his expansive library. "I found a few things that I was going to share with you morons in the morning.

Dean groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "I know Bobby. I'm tired too I drove nearly five hours to prove that a dead guy that I saw alive wasn't dead, but Sam's skills had to impress some witch."

"Hey I never wanted this attention, Jerk." Sam growled.

"Please you were going all girl power after the hunt in Jacksonville, bitch. Now you just got a damn offer to go and join the freaking Spice Girls."

"Enough of this shit, you two." Bobby groused from the phone, breaking the siblings from their squabble. "None of this nonsense is helping, either of you."

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Sam paced in the motel room. She held her cell up and looked to her older brother. Dean was busy shifting the last mattress from their double beds against the windows. The couch was placed in front of the door blockading any entrance, at least for a little while. When he was finished he turned to his sister and nodded.

Card in hand, Sam dialed the number. It didn't ring, the witch picked up immediately.

_"Why hello, Samantha. Are you calling to inform me of your approval?"_ The voice purred over the line without even bothering to see who it was first.

"You know damn well, that's not the case." Sam griped. "I'm declining the offer."

_"Oh, what a surprise, I didn't see this coming."_ The witch gave a mocking laugh. _"Just because I'm feeling nice, I'll give you one more chance to seriously consider this opportunity. If you don't answer yes, meat head will have his head tenderized."_

Sam laughed hard and long. "You thought that I hadn't considered that. You thought I turned it down without discussing the possible implications with my meat head brother. You're cute. Either way bitch, I plan on keeping my current job."

_"What makes you think that I'll take no for an answer?"_ The witch answered back, this time with a bite to her tone. Good, Sam was getting her mad.

"I have more of a will to stay a hunter. What you didn't read on me that night at the bar is that my apple pie life died when Jesse did. And when that happened I gained a new purpose. I am going to find my dad, and then I'm going to find that Son of a Bitch Yellow Eyes and burn him, just like he did my mother and my Jesse."

_"It's safer to join my coven, trust me when I say I have heard of this Yellow Eyes. You don't want to mess with him."_

"I don't give a rat's ass, about safe. I'm finding my father and asking him everything he knows about that dumb ass demon. Joining your female empowerment team was never part of the plan." Sam growled her eyes locking with her brothers.

He took a quick peek outside the window and moved the mattress back. When he turned back to look at his sister he shook his head. Powers wasn't here yet.

The witch took in a calming breath. _"I am old enough and patient enough that within time Samantha, you will be my second lieutenant. Think of the possibilities. Yes housewives, and teenage girls are probably the easiest to recruit, but if I can get you, and these women to come around, to see the way that I see you, we can become unstoppable. Also, do you also know how old I am? I was a temp, a secretary in Chicago- back in 1925. Did you see how I look in the bar? I look better than I did than before I was a witch."_

"Wait so I should join you because I won't need anti-aging cream." Sam smirked. "Your reasons are getting worse."

_"No. You should join me, because now you don't have a choice."_ The line clicked, and it was all too obvious that the witch was done with this conversation.

Sam pocketed the phone and looked up at her brother. "Ok, I pissed her off enough. He's on his way."

Dean slipped his colt into his waistband and grabbed up his shot gun.

"Bullets, of any kind are not going to help in this situation." Sam bit out already hearing pounding footsteps outside.

"I don't intend to kill him." Dean gave the gun a pump to put a bullet in the chamber. "I intend to slow him."

Sam gave a nervous laugh and put her own gun off safety. "I don't think this will slow him as much as you intend."

"Just stick to the plan." The door pulsed inward but the couch stopped Power's from entering. Both Sam and Dean knew it wasn't going to hold long.

"THE PLAN will end up with me captured, and brainwashed by a temp from the 1920's." Sam screamed pressing her body against the couch to add more weight to the blockade.

Dean remained tense and ready but his eyes read amusement. "Temp? 1920's?"

"Oh shut up, it was part of the conversation." Sam yelled at her older brother. "Just see if we can prevent myself, from getting all witchy bitchy, and I'll let you in on all the juicy details. Now just-"

She was cut off when the couch exploded inward and landed on top of her in a pile. Power's had clear orders because rather than look at the threat with the gun, he paused and focused on the practically down and out girl just at his feet.

"HEY ASSHAT." Dean brought up his gun and fired off a shot.

While the dead man was trying to process the second person in the room, and the steaming hole in his chest, Dean yanked the couch off his little sister and dragged her a safe distance away. The man was still there when he returned his head cocked as if he was receiving some kind of mental orders.

Dean brought up his boot and gave the man a firm kick in the chest, knocking the zombie out of his thoughts, and sending him stumbling back. "Hey, turn around and leave. You have no business here. In fact I bet that you're tired of taking orders."

The man's hands balled up and contorted in fury.

"I bet it gets you so riled up that your working for a female. Females work for you right, Powers. I saw you outside the house, I saw you hitting your head and fighting the impulses. Fight them now. Don't do what she says." Dean gave the man a smirk. "I bet it will piss her off plenty."

Powers went to open his mouth, but nothing came out. He doubled over and grabbed at his head with a moan. Whatever the witch was doing, she was gaining the upper hand. Dean didn't have too much longer with the sensible version of Powers. He took a second to glance over at his prone sister, the second though he looked back the man his face met with the bloated zombie's hand. Powers lifted Dean a little off his feet, all the while Dean fighting and hitting at the impervious skin. Finally Powers flung Dean away from him, and into the wall. Dean's head smacked hard into the wall and he slid down.

Dean took in a shaky breath and tried to still his vision. He couldn't black out now. He could die, or worse, his sister could die. Now was not the time to pussy out and take a nap. "S-smy"

Powers fist met him and made the white overtake the hunter.

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The rumbling of Metallica broke through to him first. The opening riff to Master of Puppets replayed over and over again. Finally with a groan Dean's hand scrambled for his cell and pressed it to his ear. "Yeah?"

_"Dammit. I have been trying to get you for the last twenty minutes Dean. Are you and your sister ok? Did plan A go through?"_ Bobby broke through the fog in Dean's head.

That was right. Texas, zombie abuser boyfriend, witch- SAM! Dean shot awake and regretted it the next instant with a groan. "No- appealing to his humanity…as much as the beater had, did no good. We'll have to go to plan B."

_"You sound terrible boy."_

"I feel terrible." Dean pushed up against the wall and looked at the damage. The couch lay at an angle, punching a hole in the wall, the door was knocked halfway off its hinges letting in a massive draft and the windows were broken. Sam must have put up a fight. "Powers put me n' Sam through the ringer. For a dead guy he has a nasty left hook."

Bobby sighed on the line. _"I take it she's gone then."_

"Yeah. You have the site handy?" Dean asked stumbling over to pick up his keys from the ground.

_"Let me bring it up."_ Bobby's furious typing overtook the sound of his voice. In about five minutes he gave a little sigh of relief. _"Good thing is the tracking on her phone is still up. She is currently about six miles away from you."_

"Where?" Dean started toward the impala. Afraid that they would be making a hasty retreat due to the damage Powers would wreak they had both packed up. He heard the sirens in the distance and knew the owner had made the call to the police already. He wasn't quite certain if it had been concern for the tenants, or anger at the damage, but either way Dean was long gone.

_"The address matches up to an abandoned Meat Factory."_ Bobby told Dean.

Dean started up the engine. "Sammy and I passed it up many times. I imagine the thing has a cooler, which is perfect."

_"Hey Dean. Watch out, this witch sounds like she's planned everything out to a T. If she's frisked your sister for weapons-"_

"She's found Sam's phone and knows that I'm tracking her location. I know. I expect a powerful welcome committee." Dean started the engine and shot out of the parking lot and onto the road leading up to the old plant.

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Sam tried to shake off the firm grip on her wrist but Power's hold was just too strong. The witch followed behind, content to let her undead lackey do the hard work.

"You let me go." Sam squirmed; her feet dragging on the slippery tile floors. "This isn't right and you know it."

The witch smiled. The echo of her laughter beat out the smart click of her heels. "Right? You don't realize how right this is. I am trying to help the female population."

"There are better ways. Plan a march, don't resort to kidnapping."

Powers stopped at a wood door. The witch came forward and pulled a key from her cleavage. She opened the door and flickered on the light. Three terrified eyes looked over at the party of three. Megan, Maya, and Rachel were trussed up to old chairs in the center of the room. Desks and filling cabinets were pushed to the side of the room.

"When we get back on the road, after Meat Head is taken care of, you'll find less accommodating conditions. Just to warn you I have a trailer hitched up to my van." The witch dragged over a chair and motioned Powers to put Sam into it.

Despite the admirable fight Sam was forced down and tightly bound to the wooden chair. When the witch got to Sam's hand she made a motherly sound of concern. Embedded in her left palm was a shard of glass. After Dean had been knocked unconscious Sam hadn't gone without a fight. A mattress had fallen and Sam had broken a window with her fist when she had been fighting off the zombie. The shard must have become attached some time after that.

"That looks like it hurts Samantha." The witch purred. Rather than pull it out and clean the wound however, Sam hissed at the sensation of it digging further into her palm. "Well you shouldn't have fought me. You don't know how much it pains me to have to restrain my future coven. But for you hunter, you made your own fate."

Sam struggled but her feet were tied down to each leg, and her hands were tied behind her. She gave another hiss as the coarse rope tightened. The witch used one last loop to tie Sam's torso down.

"You bitch." Sam bit out viciously. "I defended myself. Isn't that part of what you like about me?"

"Yes of course, but you need to direct that fire towards our collective enemy. And that's what you'll have to learn." The witch fussed with the hunter's ropes no longer. "With that out of the way let me introduce myself. Carla Rivers. We'll get to know each other well over the coming years. I would go on about the future coven of ours, powers you can expect, and spells, but I have no time."

Carla smirked and bent down to wave Sam's phone in her face. "You and your brother thought you would use the tracking device on your phone. You both should have known better. Now Meat Head will be tenderized quicker than I was planning. But I don't mind really, that just means we can leave town sooner."

The witch cocked her head and smiled listening to something distant. "And I believe that old '67 impala engine would be him."

Sam glared at the witch not saying a word.

"Maxwell, do be a dear and give Mr. Winchester our most inviting welcome." Carla waved at the door, and Powers thumped off. Before leaving the room and shutting off the lights Carla turned back to look at the four women. "Try and get some rest. We'll be traveling by daylight."

Once the lights were out and the door closed Sam hesitated. Only until the clicking heels were no longer audible Sam made no time in wrenching out the shard from her hand.

"My brother and I are here to help. Sit tight and I'll have all of you out in a few minutes." Sam started sawing at the rope with the glass, keeping a careful hold on it. The blood in her hands was making her grip very slippery.

"Yeah!" One of the girls complained. Sam couldn't tell who due to the dark. "And Jim Carey is going to come in and tickle my balls."

Sam ignored the stupid comment. She stayed focused on releasing her hands.

"Shut up, Megan." Another said. "What do you mean get us out?"

"My brother is tracking my location-" Sam inhaled in pain as the shard slid across her wrist "-and I kinda stabbed my hand with some glass in case there were ropes involved, so I'm cutting myself loose right now."

"You heard the witch; your brother is walking into a welcome with my ex. My undead ex." Megan groused. "And what if there hadn't been ropes involved? What moron imbeds glass in their hand for the convenience? What if the witch took that thing out, what then?"

Sam finally heard the rope snap and she started muscling her arms to a forward position to cut the ties around her torso. "Figured I pissed her off enough, to make me want to suffer a little bit. And it worked this moron just got their hands free; which is more than you have done in the last month of your captivity." She kept working rubbing methodically on the coarse rope around her torso. "Plus I always have at least two bobby pins in my hair in case there are shackles or chains involved."

"Who the hell are you?"

Sam smirked at the question. "I'm a hunter."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean crept through the door toting a doufle over his shoulder. Using Bobby's directions Dean located the old cooler on the lower level. Years of unuse left the room dry and warm, which was exactly the way the hunter needed it. He dug in the bag and found his lighter fluid; he dosed the room good with a liquid accelerant. He left the door to the cooler opened. Before leaving the space for good he yanked out a spray can and drew a symbol on it in red.

Dean picked up the doufle and took off down the hall. He ran a basic map in his head. Everything was pretty much lower level. There were stairs leading up to an elevated office, and the catwalk that allowed maintenance on machinery. On the lower level had been the now disassembled assembly line, another office, a break room, and a pair of men and women bathrooms. There weren't too many rooms that walking dead could hide in. He crept along the hallways listening to the sounds.

After a few minutes he finally tested one of the doors. Old vending machines sat inside bags of chips, candy bars, and sodas still rotting inside. Every few feet there was a small circular table and a few mismatched chairs around them. Ok break room was clear.

The door to the left was labeled all too obviously with the signature stick figure of a woman. Ladies' Room. Dean kicked each stall opened and didn't see anything. He went next door to the men's room. His flashlight trailed along the floor and focused on the urinals, sinks, until it rested on a pair of large feet from underneath one of the stalls.

"Powers? If that's you then I hope you're taking a crap, because that's a shitty hiding spot." Dean quipped.

The stall door flew off its hinge and crashed into the wall, sending plaster and dust into the air. Dean barely got out at a stumbling run before Powers swung a nasty fist at his head. Dean took off down the hall way his footsteps echoing along the empty concrete walls. He traced his steps back to the cooler.

Powers growled behind him speeding forward, trying to use his hands to grab at the elder Winchester. Each time Dean would duck under the hold or fire off a round, just enough to stun the brute and get away until the next advance.

"Just a few more feet." Dean grimaced his breath practically leaving him. He finally saw the cooler come into sight, when he was just at the door he stopped and ducked under the man's reach. Powers unable to stop himself flew into the metal cooler and thumped hard into the wall. The liquid accelerant made the zombie slip and fall. Dean smirked and brought out his lighter. He flickered it on and tossed it in starting a nice blaze. Before the man could crawl up and escape Dean shut the door to the cooler and locked it.

The zombie inside could be heard wailing and banging on the walls, but the sigil spray painted on it was doing its job. Nobody, not even juiced up Maxwell Powers could break through that spell. Dean took a good breath and patted on the door. "Sorry Powers, but Bobby says that your body needs to be completely destroyed."

Dean waited until the banging, and the screaming stopped. He didn't dare look inside in fear of burning the whole place down quicker than he intended. Once that door was opened the oxygen rushing in would cause the inferno to explode out, and he was determined to find Sammy.

He headed back for the hall, certain now that she was being held in the office, but found himself flying back. The doufle was lost in his hold as he crashed hard into the catwalk above, this time he stayed pinned up against it. Large metal rings flew off of a wall and looped around his wrist and the railing forcing his body to dangle when gravity finally became effective.

"You just couldn't leave well enough alone." The witch walked out of the shadows.

Dean had to admit she looked pretty hot in that skin tight black dress and her short cropped black hair. _No Dean_ , he told himself remembering the bitch had taken Sammy, three other women, and killed three men. "Sorry sweetheart, but I believe you have something that I want."

The witch threw a casual glance at the cooler tucked away in the corner, but didn't seem too concerned about the dead undead creature inside. "If you are referring to your sister, I'm sorry. She's moving on to bigger and better things."

"If I can recall-" Dean smirked. "-she said no."

"It's no matter. I know how terrifying it can be taking that first step out of an abusive relationship." She crossed her arms looking up at the dangling man.

"I would hardly call our relationship abusive." Dean griped. "Sure there may be a few baddies flinging us both around, but dad and I have never purposefully hurt her."

"You did it without realizing. Your sister is her own woman, and yet you treat her like a simpleton. Your father rather than see the potential she had forced her to become something that she wasn't. I am going to give her the life that she never had. I am going to give her the life I should have had."

"Would that be the temp, 1920's crap Sammy was talking about?" Dean asked trying to keep the witch talking. He planted his feet on the edge of the catwalk but the awkward angle at which his hands were stuck wouldn't allow him to climb over.

Carla calmly dragged a chair over and sat down just beneath her captive audience. "So happy she remembered. It won't take as much back-story to get her caught up." She crossed her legs.

"Is that part of the bonding experience? They have to listen to your tale, after painting your nails and braiding hair. Well what the hell, since you're planning on killing me anyway I'd like to hear."

Carla gave him a cautious look but he had caught her. He imagined she enjoyed hearing the sound of her own voice telling the dramatic tale. "It started in 1922 I was engaged, to a Wendell Peters. He was a poor man, barely bringing home much of anything but he was a handsome man and seemed so kind. The company he worked for got bought out though and all the employees were let go, including my Wendell. So I got a job as a secretary."

Dean gave a low throaty laugh. "I bet Mr. Old-fashioned didn't appreciate that." He moved his wrist around in the thick metal circle trying to find a weakness.

"He did appreciate the money, but you're right, he was ashamed that I had to get a job. Of course I didn't mind, it got me out of the house and feeling useful. But it made him feel useless and he started drinking and that lead to beating." She pulled a knife from somewhere under that skin tight dress and held it in her palm. She muttered something in Latin that Dean couldn't catch and the knife began to levitate. "And you want to know the stupid part. I took it. He would call me a floozie, and would say that I slept with my boss, or the neighbor, or any living creature with a dick that I happened to see. I got beat for being a man-eater. Well I wasn't, and finally I realized that as good as Wendell was at the beginning, he was turning like any other man would. And so I killed him. Almost ended up fried, but the respected witch community like my pluck."

"So your husband beating you means that every breathing man on the planet is a violent douche. Listen sister, a lot has changed since 1920." Dean grunted not liking the way she spun the knife over her palm. Last think he needed was that embedded anywhere on him.

"Not enough. Women get paid less than men. Women are still beaten on a daily basis and yet no one helps."

"Please," Dean smirked. "Women are now CEO's of companies and sitting in seats of power in the government. They can vote, and are no longer considered property. Women can have babies and return to work. Heck there is a fair share of stay-at-home fathers taking care of children at home, while mommy makes the money. And as far as the beating goes, there are more charities and associations working on diminishing the number of abused women and children across America."

"All fair points, but women can rise above even all that, and become the dominant sex."

Dean's eyes rolled. "Sorry female Malcolm X, but I don't think Sam or anyone else you've taken is going to be a part of your female power trip."

The woman stood up and kicked away the chair, the knife still floating in air. "I may have to work at it, but once you're dead she'll come around. I never thought that changing the mind of four women would be easy. We can be stubborn creatures."

"Don't I know it." Dean groused.

"And don't worry. I won't separate you completely from your sister. You seem strong and able enough for a replacement lackey, seeing how my last one was just fired." She gestured to the cooler, the metal doing well to keep the thick flames in for the time being.

"He'll have to decline the offer." A voice echoed from behind the witch, and Dean looked gratefully down to see his little sister standing with his pump action rifle. "He's too busy traveling with me."

Sam shot off two rounds one landed in the witches' heart before she could matrix it away, and the second through the neck. Carla gurgled as she fell, blood spurting from the two holes. Sam didn't waste time checking if the witch was dead. She bent over and grabbed the doufle. Passing the witch on her way to Dean, she gave one final shot to the face. Dean wasn't quite sure if that was to confirm death or for the trouble she was put through.

Dean continued to struggle to pull himself over as he heard his little sister run up the stairs to the catwalk. "Sam. There's a fire in the cooler. We have to get out of here."

Sam finally came up behind her brother and she pulled out a crowbar. She inserted the metal in-between one of the links and pulled the newly formed chain apart. Dean gripped at the railing just as the metal fell and clattered to the ground. "I take it you barbequed the zombie."

She started working on the other one. She groaned with the exertion as the metal finally bent and Dean forced the final link out and hopped over the side of the railing back onto the catwalk.

"Extra crispy, just the way you like them." Dean joked.

Sam opened her mouth to express her disgust at the comment but an explosion threw them back. The railing bent under the force but prevented the siblings from falling off the catwalk. Dean pushed himself up and offered a hand down to his sister. "The lining in the cooler must not be fire resistant. This place is going up."

He pushed Sam into a run and followed her down the stairs.

"I got the girls out. There was a side entrance next to the offices."

Dean shielded his eyes watching the flames travel quickly; he probably had added a little too much accelerant. "That won't do us any good that entire side is blocked."

Sam's eyes searched the massive room. She locked in on a large set of double doors. "Over here Dean." She rushed in the opposite direction of the fire and reached the doors. When her body flung into it though she bounced back. The door only gave enough to reveal a chain and padlock set up to keep the vandals out.

As Dean reached the door Sam shouted above the roar of the flames, "Please tell me you brought bolt cutters."

Dean threw down the doufle and riffled through it. He gave an excited cry and pulled out a set of bolt cutters. Sam pressed her body into the door to allow a gap exposing the chain. After a quick snip the old chain broke and Sam stumbled outside into the cooler air. When the fresh air hit her lungs, she doubled over and started coughing violently her body trying to dispel the smoke.

Dean's hoarse voice cut through. "You can do that in the impala." He picked up his doufle, grabbed his sister round the wrist and hightailed it out and around the side of the building. His Impala sat in the parking lot, three very exhausted women standing around it.

**< <<>>>**

The local Fire Department tackled the blaze the best they could, through the night, and following up into the morning. While sirens rushed around in the city Dean had driven everyone just outside of Sherman to a field, to wait out the police craze. Dean had passed the phone to Sam in that time and instructed her to call Bobby. Apparently the older man was feeling sentimental and wanted to make sure she was okay (not that he admitted it).

The other three women were dropped off at the police station after the excitement went down. The siblings had already schooled them on the impossibility of explaining the truth. The Police wouldn't buy a story about witches, and necromancy. Also Dean as far as the country was concerned was dead, no use bringing the Winchesters up in the story.

They only waited for a curt thank you and took off not wasting daylight.

After about fifteen minutes on the road Dean finally cleared his throat and looked over at his sister. "Hey, think she'll be okay?"

"Who?" Sam asked rubbing softly on her jaw.

"Rachel. She lost someone she cared about. I mean the other two lost someone as well, but they were being abused. Rachel wasn't and probably loved that man."

"I think she'll be fine." Sam leaned back in the seat not sure if she was referring to the girl or herself. "She seems strong, and I think that while she'll never really move on from him, her heart can eventually heal."

Dean smiled. "Yeah, I imagine that is the case."

They drove around in silence some more passing only the typical road trip scenery they had seen time and time again.

Sam turned to Dean fiddling around with her palm. "Hey Dean," She sighed and tried to think of the words. "You know I don't hate big brother mode. I really love it that you care. It's just sometimes you can get so annoying and motherly."

Not disproving the point Dean looked over and slapped Sam's hand away from the injury. "I swear you keep playing with that and I will stop the car." Dean put the hand back on the wheel and ignored his sister's glare. "I'll try and be a little less motherly Sam, I will, but you are my responsibility. Twenty Two years ago you were pressed into my arms and Dad told me to take care of you. Since then I've taught you the ABC's, taught you how to drive, hell I even gave you the god damned birds and bees talk."

Sam started laughing hard at that last one, her mind replaying 14 year old Dean's bright red face as he tried to explain her body, why it was different and the things she would be going through in the future. "Oh my god, you were so embarrassed. Then you had this chart-"

"POINT being Sammy, on a hunt I feel you are my equal. I have your back and you have mine, that is how it worked before and that is how it works now. I trust you. But the second you're in danger, or the hunt is over and we are in the motel room or car or wherever I am patching you back up again I am your big brother. Big brother mode means that I have to know that you are safe and not bleeding internally."

Sam sighed and leaned back in the seat. "Fine, that I can deal with. Just know that the same goes with me." Dean made a face and Sam smirked. "Seriously dude, you may be the older one but I still worry too. And at the end of the hunt after you make a big fuss of kissing my boo boo's I'm going to make sure that you're not playing strong man and ignoring injuries. Which I will be doing once we stop, because trust me from what I saw, you'll be aching in the morning just as bad."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. "Stop it Sammy, you're getting me all emotional."

"Oh and one last request since we are having a moment." Sam rolled her eyes ignoring her brother's statement.

"You got ten seconds until this chick fest ends."

"Stop calling me Sammy or Samantha. Sammy is a chubby twelve year old and Samantha is a friggen' debutant. It's Sam. Three letters shouldn't be that hard for your meat head brain right."

"Sorry Sammy," Dean smirked playing around with the stations. "That is not something that you can delegate. Ok so now I have a question for you. Why the hell, do you keep getting shards of glass stuck in your palm? Huh? Is your hand just a magnet for that crap or what?"

Sam shot up incredulously at the question. "The first time was a long time ago Dean, I was sixteen and that was an accident. Frankly I'm surprised you even remember."

"Oh trust me, I remember."

"And this time, it came in handy, I cut myself free from the ropes with it. Had I not prepared ahead of time you would be hanging from a catwalk with a knife in your chest and I would be halfway towards joining a coven, you jerk."

Dean cocked an eyebrow and turned toward his sister. "I'm just concerned. I mean if I have too we can cover up the windows, and mirrors in each motel room, sleeping beauty."

"You have got to be kidding me." Sam snarled. "Sleeping Beauty pricked her finger on a spinning wheel, Brother Grimm. Besides-"

Dean had already found a station playing _Highway to Hell_ though and had twisted up the volume to tune out his irritated sisters rant. He mouthed sorry and pointed to his ears before turning his attention back to the road.

**Author's Note:**

> I am the sole person posting these stories. I read through these often (really posted this originally in 2015, and have been reading through this again and again) and I miss a lot of mistakes. So you notice anything off- let me know and I'll fix it. It can be anything. Continuity, grammar, or spelling.


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